Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
I wrap my arms tighter around CJ’s middle from my spot tucked behind his saddle, the two of us rocking with Jasper’s steady gait.
Riding double on such a big horse reminds me of riding with Dad when we first got Cocoa.
I know now that Dad bought her for me after Mom left so I wouldn’t feel so alone with my big feelings.
I told Cocoa everything. Sometimes I’d just sit in her stall and cry while she nuzzled my head with her soft nose until it chased the sadness away.
“I can’t stay in your clothes all weekend.” I nuzzle my cheek against CJ’s broad shoulder blade.
“Stop giving me ideas.” He swivels in his saddle to kiss me.
Our lips linger, but Jasper’s gait breaks us up, and we lean back, laughing, the afternoon sunlight outlining CJ’s handsome face.
Earlier, when I couldn’t bear to put on my work clothes, CJ loaned me a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, but the second he saw me in them, he dragged me back to his bed.
After he devoured me, I must have dozed off, and when I woke again, he was bringing me coffee and toast with extra butter and his grandma’s huckleberry jam.
CJ steers Jasper around a downed log, the clop of his hooves on the soggy trail matching the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.
Holding him like this, his clean cotton scent mixing with warmed pinesap and Jasper’s sweet musk, makes me wish for a time machine so we could stay right here.
But my secret pledge to set things right with my family has been burning a hole in my heart since last night.
I kiss CJ’s shoulder and sigh. “We have a full fridge at my house. We could cook something other than boxed mac and cheese.”
CJ goes stiff against me. “What about your dad?”
“What about him?”
CJ glances back at me, his expression tense with apprehension. “Are you drunk off of all the orgasms I gave you this morning?”
I giggle. “Maybe.” I reach up to hold his face steady so I can kiss him again. “I want him to know.”
He stops Jasper and swivels in the saddle, a look of stark yearning in his stormy eyes. “Baby, you mean that?”
I kiss the edge of his jaw, the soft facial hair tickling my skin. “Last night, when I said I was done with slow, I meant it.”
His fingers dive into my hair and our lips embrace again, hungrier this time. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and a soft groan rumbles up his throat. Heat sparks low in my belly, renewing the ache for his touch. He pulls back and kisses my forehead, his big hand cupping the back of my head.
“Good, because I’m crazy about you, Linnea Jaymes.”
The sweet endearment turns my heart end over end, and I lean into his kiss. “I’m pretty crazy about you too.”
Back at the barn, I slide off Jasper and put him in crossties while CJ dismounts and removes his saddle.
I follow him into the tack room with the pad but the instant I set it on the rack, CJ’s arms encircle my waist. He pulls me close, my back to his chest, and presses a kiss to the crook of my neck.
“I want to take you right here.” He releases a low groan that vibrates through me.
“Here? In the barn?”
His erection digs into my back. “Fuck yes.” His sucks the crook of my shoulder, sending a jolt of electricity dancing beneath my skin. “I’ve dreamed about it for weeks. But it can wait.”
I laugh. “I’m going to remember that, cowboy.”
He gives my ass a playful tap. “Good.”
We decide to drive together in his truck, holding hands, chatting and laughing the whole way, which keeps my anxious thoughts from getting too loud.
When we pull up to my house, Dad’s not home, but he mentioned having plans through dinnertime.
A happy Bruneau greets us the second we get inside the house.
After I change clothes, CJ and I cook a batch of soup for dinner, chopping side by side while CJ sings off key to my eighties playlist and entertains me with his zany animal facts.
We’re cleaning up the kitchen after eating when Dad’s truck rumbles to a stop outside the fence, popping the happy bubble I’ve been floating around in all day.
CJ slides both of his hands into mine, and steps in close. Just his nearness helps calm my spiraling thoughts. “Breathe, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”
I comply, drinking in the lingering scents of our cooking and his warmth, the friction of his rough calluses against my palms. Leaning in, I kiss him once, softly. “Okay.”
The front door opens, and before I can think to break away, Dad steps around the corner.
Either he came in scowling, or the sight of us put that dark look there.
CJ turns but keeps holding my hands. “Rowdy, sir.”
“What the hell is going on?” he booms, hands on his waist.
He looks so angry. It’s not like him. I force in a breath. “Dad, stop.”
He glances at me, his blue eyes apprehensive, but there’s an edge of hurt that churns my stomach.
“You’re on administrative leave,” he says to CJ, his tone icy.
I forgot all about the drug test. “It’s bogus.” My voice comes out high and shaky. “CJ wouldn’t do that. We even went to a meeting last night.”
Dad huffs at the ceiling, and it brings back so many arguments he had with Jesse when I was growing up. When things were bad. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? Of course Dad is going to react like this. Of course he’s going to be wary.
“I’m not using,” CJ says, his voice steady and calm. “The test will come back negative.”
“And meanwhile, you’ll fill in your leisure time with my daughter?” Dad bites back.
“It’s not like that.” My voice is gaining strength now that the secrets are losing their hold on me. “We met before CJ started working with you.”
Dad’s eyes go wide, but not in a good way. He points a finger at CJ’s chest. “You’ve been sneaking around for weeks behind my back?”
I want to defend myself by telling him that we were taking it slow, not sneaking around, but it sounds wrong in my head. “That’s my fault,” I say instead. “I asked him to.”
He narrows his gaze at me. “Why?”
“Because I was scared!” I shout.
A thick silence buzzes between the three of us as Dad stares at me in shock. I’m not a yeller and I’ve certainly never yelled at him.
“After what happened with Nathan, I was so ashamed.” I have to get this out, even though it risks hurting us both.
“I should have picked up on the clues. I should have seen that he was derailing my life. Things got worse but I didn’t know how to end it.
A part of me didn’t want to. That’s how upside down I felt. ”
Dad strokes down his chin, his expression pained.
Next to me, CJ’s quiet, but the way he’s not rushing in to try to fix this or make reassurances gives me a dose of strength. He’s trusting me to handle it my way.
“I’ve been afraid of letting you down like that again,” I say, my voice cracking.
Dad’s eyes pinch. “That you were scared to tell me…or to ask for help…” He huffs a shaky breath.
“God, Linnie. I’m sorry. That was never my intention.
” His gaze finds mine. “But I need you to hear me when I say what happened with Nathan wasn’t your fault.
And nothing about that was in any way letting me down. ”
I try to take all of this in, but he’s still upset that I kept CJ a secret. I can see it on his face.
“I only wanted a little space before I shared this with you. To make sure I was standing on my own.”
Dad runs a hand through his hair. “Forgive me, honey. For making you feel that you had to keep this from me. I’ll always support you. Always. Or at least I’ll sure try.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dad glares at CJ. “But you’re going to have to earn my respect, and right now, I’m just not sure where that’s gonna land. I might be old fashioned, but Linnie’s my baby. I failed to protect her in the past. I won’t make that mistake again.”
CJ glances at me, a humble expression in his eyes. I want to believe his claim that everything will work out, but it’s not feeling that way right now. It feels like I’m being asked to take sides.
CJ nods at Dad. “That’s fair.”
Dad opens his mouth, his troubled look unchanged, but I cut him off because I think we’ve said enough.
“I think…we’ll go.” I squeeze CJ’s hand. “Maybe we can talk…later.”
Dad reaches for me, and I step into his embrace. He releases a full sigh and kisses the top of my head. “I love you.”
I hug him back. “I love you too.”
The forecast of warmer temperatures and a week of rain coming up gives me even more motivation to return to Little Elk Creek on Monday morning. Once our snowpack starts melting, the creek will become too flooded and dangerous for field work until early summer. I need that data now.
I also could use the distraction of a project.
I stayed at CJ’s for the rest of the weekend and Dad was busy with Jesse and Skye yesterday, so we haven’t talked since my meltdown in the kitchen.
I shouldn’t worry—Dad and I will be okay.
But will he hold a grudge against CJ? He made it clear he’ll be paying attention.
Will he hover too close, expecting him to make a mistake?
Before I met CJ, I wasn’t interested in meeting someone new, taking that risk. Now, the idea of my life without him brings a tight ache to my chest.
Dad won’t make me choose. He’s not like that.
Something CJ shared this weekend cuts through my noisy thoughts. Let go and let it be.
Maybe it’s worth a try.
Even though Keith is usually stuck in meetings on Monday mornings, I arrive at the office extra early to avoid a confrontation. After packing my tools and gear into a silver work truck by headlamp beam, I grab my boots and backpack and the last of the coffee CJ made me and head north.
My mind is too busy for music, so I let the engine’s steady hum ground me. Memories from the intense weekend skip through my thoughts. My time with CJ. The tough conversation with Dad.
The sunrise is muted behind thick cloud cover, adding a new layer of worry to my brooding thoughts.
I park in the same pullout as my last visit and gear up, though no hip waders today because I’ll be higher up in the valley where the channel is braided and shallow.
The air tastes of the creek minerals and melting snow.
It’s lost its winter bite, which feels fresh on my cheeks and nose.
I snap a selfie, making sure to get the tailgate of the truck and a slice of the rushing creek in the frame, but decide to hold off sending it in case CJ is catching up on sleep after keeping me up so late. I send it to Maryanne instead.
She gives my picture a heart, then texts back:
Lookin fine, hot stuff
I grin.
She adds:
I miss you
ME:
Forgive the radio silence. Busy weekend
MARYANNE:
The good kind of busy?
Dad’s words echo through my mind, but I force my fears aside.
ME:
The amazing kind
She replies with a kissy face emoji and a burst of hearts that float up my screen.
ME:
I miss you too
MARYANNE:
Call me tonight
I heart it then pocket my phone.
The hike alongside the creek is soggier thanks to the thaw already underway, and though the hip waders are cumbersome and hot to hike in, I’m second guessing my decision to leave them behind.
By the time I reach the place where I left off last time, I’m sweating a little, my boots muddy but my focus sharp with purpose.
I drop my pack on a downed log and guzzle some water, the steady shushhh of the creek running over the cobbles loud in my ears.
And then I unpack my tools and get to work.
By late afternoon, I’ve surveyed almost the first mile, but the creek hits a high bank so I backtrack and sling my pack back on and cross to the gravel bar on the other side.
A bird flushes from a cluster of cottonwoods, and I whip out my binoculars from the pouch attached to my waist belt just in time to catch the gold polka dotted wingspan of a common flicker before the bird banks left and melts into the forest. Birds are a good sign.
It means the watershed isn’t completely bereft of nutrients.
When I lower the lenses to get back to work, a flash of color beneath a hemlock bough snags my attention. I focus the knob slightly, but my gut doesn’t need confirmation. It’s another one of those yarn weavings. My neck hairs bristle.
Who is putting these here? And why?
Slowly, I do a full scan of the creek basin with my naked eye. Though the weavings have nothing to do with the reason I’m here, I can’t shake the feeling that they’re important. But I don’t see any others, or anything else out of place.
I store the binoculars and walk up the gravel bar to get closer, the big cobbles shifting beneath my boots.
The hemlock is growing at an angle, its roots undercut by an eroding bank thanks to the flooding.
If I hadn’t spotted the weaving from downstream, I would have missed it completely.
Squatting down, I snap a picture of it. The yarn is brighter than the one I saw last time, like it’s newer.
I send the picture to CJ.
Have you ever seen something like this?
The send bar crawls across the top of my message app. Am I too far out of cell range for a picture? While I wait, Keith’s taunt about chasing rainbows flashes through my mind. Quit wasting time. I stand and stuff my phone back in my pocket. I’ll try CJ again later. Tonight, maybe I can ask Dad too.
I’m spinning around so I can return to where I left off when two men emerge from the forest.